Want That Man
by ladyofdark.1981
Summary: Judge Magister Gabranth is the most sort after man in Archades.


A bit of a late Valentine's day fic, but I hope it is worth the read. I dedicate it to SpannedSoul who inadvertently gave me the inspiration for a Pro-Gabranth story, so here it is, the story for the evil twin Fon Ronsenburg.

* * *

Want that Man.

The Lady Godiva Press was a popular magazine in Archades for the _enlightened_ modern Archadian woman, it did not have articles for cooking or how to remove difficult stains, no this was a magazine for women who knew what they wanted. Cathleen Mercia, Editor of the magazine sat in her office, her suit dark and clinging to her figure as though it had been painted on that morning. She clicked away at her computer, composing a letter, the fifth one she had written in the last few months, to Judge Magister Gabranth, the only unmarried and by far the most attractive of the male Judge Magisters. Her request to him, yet again, was to interview him and take several appealing photographs for the many readers who requested the article.

"You had better accept this time, Gabranth," she grumbled as she printed the letter out and signed it with her elaborate signature. "Or I will slap that smug grin off your face." She sealed the letter in an envelope. "Bella?" she called her assistant.

"Yes, Madam Mercia?" the small brunette girl answered, popping her head around the door.

"I need you to deliver this to the Magistrate," she handed the letter to the girl.

"As you wish, Madam Mercia," she bowed and left clutching the letter.

Alone in her office, Cathleen circled her desk to the window behind it; her gaze settling on the Magistrate building, "You will not disappoint my reader again Gabranth!"

* * *

Bella, a young woman of eighteen, sat in the hover cab, the letter in her lap, she noted the others who joined her in the public vehicle; an elderly Gentry couple with, she presumed, was their granddaughter, who looked all of ten years of age and judging by her expression, was not from the city.

The young secretary sighed when the cab finally took off, it's destination being Tsenoble, where she would catch a private hover cab to the Magistrate building, she was glad she had earned a sandalwood chop earlier that week or this trip would never have happened. The scenery flew past the window; Bella chuckled to herself as she heard the girl exclaim, "Wow, Gran'ma! We're so high up!"

The flight, although high, was only a short one, no sooner had they lifted off, they returned to the land below. With haste, Bella exited the Cab and entered the one she had ordered an hour earlier. "Are you the lady who wants to go to the Magistrate," the well-spoken driver asked as she closed the door.

"I am," she replied, still clutching the letter.

"Do you have your Sandalwood chop?"

"I do," she showed him the engraved, sweet-smelling wooden disc.

With a nod, they took off for one of Archadia's most famous buildings.

* * *

The training yard of the Magistrate was a large arena with nearly a thousand judges training at any one time, day or night. Gabranth, along with Drace, entered the training yard with their swords ready. They had no quarrel with each other, like so many in the yard, but Gabranth felt a tinge of spite towards his fellow Judge. Drace had teased him for returning to his quarters late, she knew he had been visiting a few of the daughters of wealthy gentlemen over the last week, so she used the information to taunt him during dull moments during the day.

"Did I hurt your tender Landian feelings, Gabranth?" Drace laughed as she tossed her helmet to the side. The training yard held only mock weapons, so armour was not necessary.

"This is training," he uttered to himself, "Nothing more."

Drace laughed again, flicking her sword from left to right hand and back again, "take a joke, friend. The scowl you wear is unbecoming of Archadia's most eligible bachelor." He laugh was cut short by Gabranth's attack.

"Don't you ever shut up?" he asked as he attacked again.

"No," she replied mirthfully.

He grunted his annoyance and swung again and their battle took the form of the deadly dance between foes. Gabranth held a glint in his eye that said that the practice swords would not stop him from running through his best friend, but her laughter never stopped either.

Gabranth's fury caused him to falter, over emphasising his attacks, his balance not as perfect as it usually was, over stepping in his lunge. "Did the young thing wear you out last night Gabranth?" Drace effortlessly knocked him to the floor with a slap to his rear end with the flat of her sword. He rolled over quickly to get up, but her foot was planted firmly on his chest and her sword at his throat, "Yield?" she asked with an amused smirk on her face.

She had bested him, why did he allow his pride to get the better of him? "Aye," he spat, averting his gaze from her.

"What was that?" she asked louder than necessary, "I cannot hear you Gabranth." A coy grin began to form on her lips.

She will pay for this, "Aye!" he yelled, his eyes returning to her smug grin, "I yield!"

With a cocky jig, Drace stepped back, "I beat Judge Gabranth," she chanted over and over to herself, but just loud enough for him to hear.

Throwing the sword to the ground in a fit of rage, he left the training ground to shower.

* * *

Bella delivered the letter to the main office of the Magistrate; the judge in charge of delivering the mail in the building took it and placed it in his satchel. Gabranth always had a lot of mail, whether it be from fan girls (or boys) or official paperwork, everyday a large pile would be left on the Judge's desk in his sizeable inbox.

Today was a normal haul, thirty-two letters and parcels, all checked by security before he got his hands on them; the judge always found delivering Gabranth his mail a chore. Where as other Judges seemed to be happy about receiving their mail, Gabranth would only scowl and grunt as the mountain of communiqué was dumped in front of him. He was grateful that the gods had deemed it necessary to have Gabranth out of his office during the mail drop.

He wished not to tempt the gods to change their minds and he swiftly left the office.

* * *

The shower and change of clothing felt good, but did nothing to lift the embarrassment Drace had dealt him. Gabranth sat on the bench near his locker, tying his bootlaces; he did not want to emerge from the men's change rooms, he knew Drace would be out there, waiting to continue her victory celebrations. He groaned audibly, startling a few of the younger judges who shared the room with him at that time.

With a huff, he stood, dressed in his day uniform; strictly for office work only, he flicked the lint off his sleeve and walked over to the mirror above the washbasin. Comb in hand, he neatened his hair; "Why do they throw themselves at you?" he asked his reflection, "Your not anything special to look at." He rubbed his chin, feeling the stubble that grew there, thinking he could use that as an excuse to take more time to leave, he packed his comb away and retrieved his electric shaver.

He took his time with that task too, hoping that Drace would have left by the time he emerged. Satisfied with the precision of his shave, sideburns where symmetrical and no nasty nicks on the softer, underside of his chin, he left for his office.

Drace had not grown bored with waiting, for a woman five years his senior she sure knew how to act like a pestering teen. "Oh," she mockingly cried, "needed to pretty our self up, did we?"

Gabranth groaned and walked past her, marching towards his office, "Can't you just leave me alone?" he asked, feeling the woman's incessant persecution weighing down on him, "Don't you have duties at the Palace?"

"Not until tonight, Blondie," she ruffled his neatly combed hair, "I'm all yours until then."

He stared at her, "yippee," he said dryly, continuing towards his destination.

His office was, as usual, neat and ordered to the point of obsession, he knew Drace would continue; she was insufferable when she won a sparing match. She diverted her attention to his bookcase, grouped by genre and in alphabetical order. Drace casually pulled one of the novels from the bookshelf and flicked through it. Gabranth was grateful that she was distracted long enough for him to sit at his desk and begin his daily ritual of filtering the fan mail.

Drace peeked over the book, watching his reaction to the letters he received. Most, as expected, were from married women propositioning him for what their husbands could not fulfil, some sent pictures of themselves either in sexy lingerie or nothing at all and a few sent him underwear they had worn or were male with the same inclinations.

"What in Ivalice?" Gabranth asked allowed, "I know I'm going to suffer for this, but can you tell me if this is a woman or a man?"

Drace closed the book, putting it back in the wrong place in the bookcase and walking over to look at the photograph he held out to her. "Um," she studied the photograph, "I have no idea; I see both male and female traits."

"I hate it when my curiosity if piqued," Gabranth grumbled, "I'll send the envelope for DNA testing, that will tell me what it is."

Drace laughed, "You would waste Magistrate and Draklor resources to sate your curiosity?"

"It might not," he countered calmly; "I may perhaps find a connection to an unsolved crime."

"And how often has that happened?" she asked, sitting on the corner of his desk, smiling with the expected answer.

"It hasn't," he answered, "yet."

"Yet," Drace smirked, "The ever suspicious Ninth Bureau's excuse to investigate the most stupid of leads." Her eyes settled on the next letter in his inbox, the company stamp in the corner said _Lady Godiva Press_, not one to let Gabranth have his secrets to himself, she picked it up and opened it. "My Dearest Judge Magister Gabranth," she read aloud.

He snatched it from her hands, "Have you no sense of decency to allow a man his privacy?" he frowned at her in a vain attempt to get her to leave.

"Now why would I do that?" she replied in a mockingly sweet way, batting her eyelids innocently, "You received a letter from a women's magazine, _the _women's magazine and you want me to leave without telling me why they have written you?"

He sighed; exasperated and defeated he replied calmly, "They want me to pose for a photo shoot," he paused, flushing a deep red, "A nude shoot."

Drace roared with laughter, "By the Gods!" she cried out, falling from the desk in hysterics.

"That's why I turn them down," he stood up from his desk and leaned against the window frame, looking out over the street below, "I would be ridiculed by everyone."

Drace picked herself up off the floor, "Don't you realise the honour they pay you by asking you to pose for them?"

"I don't want to be ogled at like some prize pet at a show," he refused to look at her.

"Oh come on," she slapped him on the shoulder, "you're the youngest Judge Magister Archadia has ever had, you're barely in your thirties, not an ounce of fat on you and you're a decorated war hero; everybody ogles you anyway."

"Thanks," he nodded dryly, "kick me while I'm down."

"I should really kick you for that comment," she said seriously, "Can't you see what everybody else does? You are _beautiful_, beyond handsome; you should do it, no one will think any less of you."

He looked at her, a friendly smile playing on her lips, "you promise that I will not be harassed by you."

"Cross my heart," she made the motion to emphasise her promise, "Ghis would be exceedingly jealous of you, he's been offering to do a shoot for them for years, but they told him he was too old."

Gabranth laughed at that, "He always was an exhibitionist."

Drace left for her shift at the Palace, leaving Gabranth to respond to the invitation from the magazine, he typed it out carefully, not wanting to sound eager about it, the idea of letting countless numbers of the populous see his naked form frightened him. There was a part of him that felt flattered by the attention, but his foreign, Landian features always made him stand out in a crowd and made him self-conscious. Printing and signing the letter he placed it in his outbox and left for his quarters before he changed his mind. "I hope I'm doing the right thing," he thought aloud as he navigated his way to his apartment.

* * *

Once home, he put his kettle on and raided his refrigerator for something to eat, a cockatrice salad with nana blue cheese and a sweet pastry from the bakery in the cafeteria. The kettle whistled and he prepared an herbal concoction to help him sleep. Sitting at his small table in the kitchenette, he ate his meal, which could sustain three men, but he was hungry and did not care for proper etiquette or portion sizes at that time.

The thoughts of the photo shoot returned, he pushed it away, they might change their mind; at least he hoped they would. Finishing his meal and his herbal tea, he washed the dishes and packed them back in the Spartan cupboard. After completing his nightly ritual of preparing for the following day, he stripped down to his underwear and slipped between the sheets of his bed. The cool, silken sheets helped him relax and the heavy Chocobo down quilt warmed his tired and sore muscles, but the thought that he would expose himself to all of Archades would not leave his mind. "Damnit!" he cursed, flicking the covers back. He was going to destroy that letter before it was posted.

* * *

The Postal Judge entered Gabranth's office to check for out going mail, he was not surprised to see a small pile of letters waiting for him, neatly stacked in uniform-sized envelopes. Without hesitating, he picked the pile of letters up, slipped it into his satchel, and left for the neighbouring office to repeat the process.

* * *

Gabranth had not bothered to cover himself as he raced to retrieve the letter before it was posted, running through the halls in just his shorts and nearly taking out a few of the nightshift in the process, he neared his office to see the hall empty. Preying to the gods that he was not too late, he entered his office. The dark room was lit only by the surrounding buildings, casting an eerie shadow over the furniture. He approached the outbox and slumped, he was too late, the letter had been posted.

Demoralised, he returned to his room, "I'll call them in the morning and tell them that someone else answered the letter," he told himself, but the lie did not sit well with him. He knew he had no choice now but to go through with it.

* * *

Madam Mercia arrived early to work, looking over the new edition's layout; she pushed the anticipation of Gabranth's reply out of her mind. She had a small hope that this time she would receive a favourable reply, but like all the other times she refused to get excited. A soft knock sounded at the door, "Enter," she called, distracted by the article she was currently editing.

"Madam Mercia?" it was Bella, "the mail has arrived."

"Good, place it over there," she pointed to her coffee table near two plush leather seats by the window, "I'll read them later."

The girl nodded, flicking through the numerous letter, "ah, Madam Mercia?"

"What is it?" she asked, tearing herself away from her work, annoyed at the continued disruption; glaring at her secretary.

The girl had a small smile on her face, "there's one from the Magistrate."

Shocked, Madam Mercia leapt from her desk and snatched the letter from Bella, "It's from Gabranth," she said excitedly, "it's his personalised stationary." Tearing open the envelope and unfolding the letter, she mumbled through the greetings and praise that his letters usually had and the gratitude of being considered for the honour, etc. "After much consideration and persuasion by a fellow Magister, I have decided to accept your offer and will await further details," she read out eagerly, "Yours sincerely, Judge Magister Gabranth."

Bella's face said it all, the delight blended with astonishment, "he agreed?"

Mercia nodded, "He did."

Bella squealed, jumping up and down, "when do we organise the session?" she asked quickly.

Cathleen laughed, "I don't know, I didn't expect such a response."

"We should do it soon," Bella said, "Before he changes his mind."

"You're right, fetch my diary," she sat back at her desk and pulled out her address book, "I'll find the Photographer's number."

* * *

Gabranth jumped every time the video communications beeped for his attention; fortunately, they were all business calls, and for that, he was grateful. He contemplated going to the training ground, work out some of his anxieties, but the gym would allow the solitude he so desired at that time. With a detour to his quarters for his gym-gear, he went down to the assembly of equipment. He usually visited the gym around three times a week; his usual routine consisted of running on a treadmill, pumping heavy weights, one-hundred laps of the pool, shower, massage and soak in the heated spa.

Settling into a comfortable jog on the treadmill, he ran, letting his mind go blank, his rhythm hypnotic. How long he jogged for, he could not say, but the interruption from one of the young judges broke his peaceful escape, "Judge Magister, there is someone to see you in your office."

Dripping with sweat, he nodded, picking up his towel and wiping his face, "I'll be there in a moment." The young man saluted and left. Gabranth walked to his office, determined to return to his workout after getting rid of whoever it was in his office.

He entered his office, smelling as if he had not bathed for a week, and came face to face with a smart looking redhead in a very tight suit, "Madam Mercia," she introduced herself. Stretching out her hand as though nothing was out of place, "Lady Godiva Press."

Gabranth looked at her, masking his horror that the editor of the magazine that wanted to photograph him wanted to speak to him personally. "Pleasure to meet you," he shook her hand quickly before hastily releasing it.

"From where I'm standing, the pleasure is _all_ mine," she cocked her eyebrow at his near naked form, covered with perspiration. "I see why you are so popular."

He lost his composure, dropping his gaze to the bin by his desk; he should have dressed first. "You flatter me," he responded, "I am but a mere servant to the Emperor."

"And so modest," she added, "you are too good to be true." She boldly walked up to him; he stiffened as she traced her finger down his chest to his navel, "tell me, did the gods create you to torment all woman kind?"

"Madam," he removed her hand where it lingered at the waistband of his shorts, "Perhaps we should remain focused as to why you have come in person, instead of calling or writing me."

She walked over to his desk, picked up a folder, and handed it to him, "Inside you will find the details you need for our appointment next week." She watched him flick through the contents of the folder before continuing, "If you have questions, please drop by, I'm sure Bella, my secretary, would be thrilled." She moved to leave before he could say anything, "I hope you enjoy the experience, Judge Magister. Maybe we could make it a regular article."

Gabranth watched her leave, he felt … he did not know how he felt; this was new, he needed to return to his workout, clear his head again and read the folder properly later.

* * *

Drace had noticed the famous Madam Mercia in the foyer as she entered from the Palace, she watched the feisty auburn haired woman bark orders to a smaller woman with a tight bun in her hair. She wondered if it had to do with Gabranth's little business with them, she intended to find out. Bypassing her own office, she headed straight for Gabranth's.

The room was empty save for the singular pot plant the sat in the corner. She walked further into the room, spotting a manila folder on the desk with the emblem of the Lady Godiva Press embossed on the front. Never one to give Gabranth the privacy he frequently demanded, she looked through it. Her face dropped, he was doing it! She had the appointment time and date along with what he needed to prepare himself for the day and it would be the whole day.

She smiled to herself, deciding that she would not torment Gabranth over this, he might change his mind and the women of Archades would lynch her, regardless of her status of Judge Magister.

* * *

Gabranth relaxed in the heated spa, the jets of water soothing the tension in his back. _Damn women's magazines_, he thought, _Hopefully they will leave me alone after this._ Leaning his head back and closing his eyes, he thought of buying a new book or ordering a meal instead of cooking one tonight; but his thoughts were continuously invaded by the horror of posing nude to be photographed. The idea of planning a mission for the day in question would work, but it would delay the inevitable. "What am I going to do?" he spoke aloud to the empty room, burying his face in his hands.

"Just go through with it," Drace said from behind him.

"Fuck!" he spun around to cover his nakedness, "Drace, this is the men's area!"

She laughed, "If you're this modest, why did you agree to do the photo shoot?"

"Reading my personal affects again, Drace?" he bemusedly spat, "By the gods! Do you not have any self restraint?"

She let her eyes trail over his wet, naked body, "I believe the answer to your question is in front of you," she looked into his glare, "That means yes, I do have self restraint, I'm not crawling in there with you, am I?"

"You are also known for preferring the same sex I do," he grumbled, his face sporting a faint scowl.

Drace rolled her eyes, "Geez, can't you take a compliment when it's given to you?" Gabranth responded by splashing her with some of the Jacuzzi water. Drace wiped her face down and smiled, "just be yourself and relax," she placed a chaste kiss on his brow, "You'll do fine."

He watched her leave; _maybe this won't be so bad._

* * *

The night before the photo shoot, he reread the manila folder Madam Mercia gave him. For the first time in years, he had lost his appetite, the realisation that tomorrow morning; he would be flown out to the Phon Coast and photographed in nothing more than a light breeze to clothe him; he did not like it. He placed the folder next to his bed and stood in front of his bedroom mirror, he slowly removed his clothing to try understand why women wanted to see him so exposed.

He studied his pale yet toned body, clearly seeing each muscle group ripple under his skin as he moved. His eyes settled on his sex as it hung limp between his thighs, "I suppose they will want to see you too," he said to it, it twitched as though in response. His length always troubled him; he did not indulge with the juvenile in anatomical comparisons that his fellow cadets found so amusing, but now that his masculinity would be scrutinised by the female population, he wished he did. Upon remembering some of the more twisted games the boy use to play, he retracted the thought.

He began to flex, posing in ways to enhance muscle groups; he burst out laughing, "Basch would have loved this," his smile faded as thoughts of his brother, whom he believed dead, flooded his mind, "You always did like to show off to the girls." His head dropped to his chest, fighting the surge of sorrow that engulfed his entire being. He could almost see his brother staring back at him in the mirror, he smiled, "you arrogant prick, Basch, thinking that you had the better body, would they have asked you if you were by my side?" He could imagine his brother laughing and returning the taunt, like in the old days in Landis, now he had Drace to fill that position, as though Basch has reincarnated into the woman just to torment him.

His eyes caught the clock on the wall, indicating that it was nearing midnight and he should get some sleep. He slipped into bed and attempted to sleep for the night.

* * *

The alarm sounded, indicating the end of a sleepless night, Gabranth dragged himself to the shower to wake up properly. His lack of sleep hit him hard, forgetting to turn on the hot water before climbing in. the shock of ice cold water woke him instantly; his heart racing and breathing hard, he turned the hot on to finish his shower. Climbing out, he dressed in his usual armour and headed to the kitchen for breakfast. Distracted, he made a cold coffee and burnt toast followed by brushing his teeth with an antiseptic cream, which tasted terrible. He was in a bad way; he had never before been this unfocused, never in his entire life had he wished he were anywhere other than Archades.

He sat at his dining table, contemplating excuses for cancelling the photo shoot when the doorbell rang. Gabranth considered pretending to be sick, nobody finds a sick man attractive, but his damn honesty prevented him from lying in such a fashion. Reluctantly, he opened the door to see a small brunette in a moderately expensive suit, "Judge Magister," she bowed respectfully, "I'm Bella from the press, I am here to escort you to the hover car."

It was an odd feeling to have a woman escort him to a hover car; however, as this was for business and not pleasure he chose to suppress the feeling. "How long will this take?" he asked to make conversation.

"Most of the day, the photography will be finished by two and the interview by five, then you will probably have dinner with Madam Mercia."

"Why would Madam Mercia want to dine with me?"

The girl snorted at his question, "You're Honour, you are the most sort after man in all the empire, not even young lord Vayne will ever measure up to you." The hover car opened automatically, allowing the two to enter.

"I must confess, miss," Gabranth began, "I have never considered myself desirable in any way, nor have I attempted any actions to enhance my current appearance."

Bella chuckled, "sir, you do not see through a woman's eyes," she blushed, turning away, "Ever since you stepped into the public eye, we have received requests for you to pose for us …"

"So you pestered me to placate your readers?" he folded his arms across his chest, causing the steel of his armour to grind against each other, leaving scuff marks t be polished later, "Do you know of my heritage?"

"Judge Magister," she leaned forward, capturing his attention, "I know you were a refugee from the former Republic, but I also know you are half Archadian and you are still voted the sexiest man in all of Ivalice. You cannot tell me you believe the women of the Empire are all delusional."

_Damnit_, he thought, _she prepared for this argument! _"I don't understand it, that is all." The rest of the trip was silent; he stared out at the clouds on the horizon, wishing the day were over.

* * *

The hover car landed on the cliff top of the Vaddu Strand, overlooking a small city of tents and an assortment of different props that Gabranth had never seen before. He stepped out after Bella, who vanished into the crowd of people setting up lights on the cliff. He shook his head at the futility of lighting during the brightest time of the day.

"Judge Magister," a warm sounding young woman greeted him, "I am Esther, your personal assistant for today, may I get you anything?"

Gabranth nearly choked, he never had a personal assistant before, "Is there somewhere I can freshen up?"

Clutching a clipboard to her chest she motioned for his to follow, "You have a tent for the day," she explained, "We have also sequestered a chef to provide you with anything you desire." She lead him to a large white tent with a fruit basket, hot water urn with tea and coffee, a platter of biscuits, a platter of gourmet cheeses and deli meats and next to the table with the food, a massage table, dressing table and costumes, he presumed, in his size. "I do hope this is acceptable, sir." She left, only to be replaced by more women, they did not talk to him, leaving him to make the first hot coffee that he craved for all morning.

He sent them a polite bow and sat at the dressing table, as there were no other seats for him to occupy. Within a few minutes the women who had entered after Esther had left began to shuffle over to him with cased of things he did not want to think about. Before he knew it, they had whipped out a hot cloth and covered his face; _okay, they want to shave me_, he thought after the initial shock wore off. Allowing his mind to wander, he let the women remove the facial hair he neglected to shave that morning, fearing he would slash his own throat by accident. They chirped happily, like two cockatrice babbling to each other, he had no intention of listening in.

The shave had done wonders to take his mind off the photo shoot, but that soon was torn away when they began to remove his armour, "Excuse me," the uttered as they tossed him around like a doll, stripping him down to his underwear. "Ha! I told you he wore shorts, Liz, cough it up!" he guessed that the women had gambled on the type of underwear he wore.

He felt the hot cloth now on his chest, "What's happening?" he asked as the women began to apply the shaving cream to his chest.

"You are _hairy_, sir," the one the other called Liz said, "Most Archadian men are not." His response to the statement was a confused stare, not that they paid any attention to it, using the large razor to strip away the offensive hair on his torso, followed by his legs. He thought they were finished when he was asked to remove his shorts and lie down on the massage table. He shuddered at their gasps once his shorts hit the floor, although he kept his back to them, his reflection in the many mirrors gave them ample opportunity to view his goods.

They continued to shave his body, leaving only a tuft of blond curls, which he argued to keep. Again, he believed them finished with him when they began to rub strange oil over his skin, "What are you doing?"

"This is to give you a bronzed appearance; it makes your body look more defined," the explanation was simple enough, but it still left him unsure; what had he gotten him self into?

He tried in vain to keep himself covered as the women continued their attentions to his exposed flesh, talking about him as though he were not there at all. Finally, they finished, leaving him naked and stunned in the tent; Esther returned, studying his anatomy she sighed, "They're ready for you, sir." She tossed a robe at him and he followed her out to the beach.

Although the sun was hot, the sea breeze held a chill that balanced the air of the Phon Coast. Gabranth followed Esther towards a cluster of people in the shadow of the cliff, various props and backdrops that only made him shudder. It was mostly women there, dressed as though they were to spend the day frolicking in the water.

Madam Mercia spied the nervous Judge Magister as he kicked the sand around, "Judge Magister," she called, "are you ready?"

He gave a shrug, trying to look calm. "What do you need me to do?"

She pointed to a rock by the water, the gentle swell lapping at the sides, "Take off your robe and lounge on the rock," she ordered him with more authority than the Emperor.

Without waiting, Gabranth removed his robe and handed it to Esther, everyone around him gasped, he ignored them as best he could, but he knew that every set of eyes around him were focused on a specific part of his anatomy. _I'm just a man, _he said to himself, _they've seen naked men before._ He climbed atop of the rock, feeling the breeze more distinctly now, as it blew around his naked form.

"Good," Madam Mercia boldly moved up to the rock, moving him to look more alluring to the camera, "You know, Judge Magister," she spoke quietly, "I think we will need a sealed section for this edition of the magazine, it would be a crime not to celebrate such … masculinity." She trailed her finger down his chest, as though tempted to touch him further south, but she pulled away with a smile, "He's all yours."

And so it began, Gabranth had never in his life felt so vulnerable or violated, hands moved him into new desirable positions and the photographer would instruct him where to look and how. When they were finished with the rock, it was time for him to 'frolic' in the surf. "Is this really necessary?" he asked, sending the photographer a pained plea, "the water is cold and you have hundreds of photographs as it is."

"It's all about variety, You're Honour," she replied sweetly, "I know what the reader wants and I intend to give it to them." She gestured for him to enter the water.

"I don't know any self respecting man who would swim naked at a public beach," Gabranth grumbled, edging his way into the frigged waters of the Phon Coast (for that time of year), "Are you sure my goose bumps won't ruin the shots?" he added sarcastically.

"Not at all," she chirped happily, "it will actually make the shots better." She fluttered her eyelashes at him in an innocent way.

Gabranth scowled at her and continued into the water, the icy liquid gradually crept up his legs, causing him to shiver, "When I get back to the Magistrate, I'm going to kill you, Drace," he uttered under his breath an octave higher than normal, "Oh you are so, gonna pay for this!"

"Now, try to imagine you are a god emerging from the sea," the photographer called out to him.

"A god of vengeance, perhaps," he grumbled, giving the photographer a glare.

"That's it Gabranth," she cried delightedly, "Give us that sexy stare!"

He resisted rolling his eyes; _these women have one-track minds!_ He continued to stare into the camera, holding his position, keeping his lower body hidden beneath the waves.

"You can continue out of the water," the photographer said, "Going for the money shot now!"

Gabranth's stomach dropped and his heart leapt to his throat, "You can't be serious!" he exclaimed, hoping that he miss-heard the request.

"We all saw your package," she chuckled with a twinkle in her eye, "How do you manage to keep it tucked in your shorts without ripping them?"

"What is with a woman's obsession about what a man tucks down the front of his pants?" he asked, refusing to budge, "I can assure you that every hume male has one of these and they are all the same, only varying in scale."

"You have no idea, do you," it was a statement, "You are a rarity among hume males, even in your relaxed state, you can inspire a woman to do the most … sinful things."

"And you wish for me to inspire sin among the women of Archades?" he challenged, "As a Judge Magister, it is my duty to keep the peace."

"You're Honour, women involved with such sin are less likely to disturb the peace," she smirked, "unless they scream."

Knowing that this woman would not back down, he took a few steps forward, "I warn you that the cold would have had an effect on what you wish to photograph." He stopped, waiting for her scrutiny.

"If that's you smaller than usual," she pulled the camera to her eye, "meet me in my tent after the session."

He nearly burst out laughing, _fat chance of that!_ He ducked under the water and stood up again, letting the ocean drip over his body, "I never mix business with pleasure."

"Funny," she licked her lips, "My business _is_ my pleasure."

As much as he hated to admit it, her sensual display affected him, "Are we done yet?" he asked impatiently, worried about his body's response.

"Yes," Esther, who had been sitting by waiting for her next order retrieved his robe to him cove up. The photographer moved away, leaving Gabranth in the company of his assistant.

"I regret to inform you that Madam Mercia will be unable to dine with you tonight, some problem with the printers," Esther informed him, "So you're free to go."

Gabranth needed no prompting; he dashed back to his tent and dressed quickly. He quietly slipped out the back of the tent and found the hover car that brought him there, "I'll give you a million gil to get me back to the Magistrate as soon as possible," he begged the driver, who gladly accepted. Gabranth knew that they probably wanted to do more, later that day or ask for another day to be scheduled for more photos to be shot, so he was not hanging around to find out.

* * *

After a week of scaring the hell out of the cadets at the Akademy, Gabranth felt the tension beginning to ease; he had heard nothing from the Lady Godiva Press. He made his way back to his neglected paperwork in his office to find Drace sitting in his chair with her feet up on the desk, reading the magazine with his charming smile on the cover. "Ah, I was wondering when you would get back," she closed up the magazine, "you look incredible in these pictures, by the way."

"I didn't realise it was out already," he said nonchalantly, focusing on a tree outside the window.

"It's not," she handed it to him; "they sent you this as a souvenir along with this letter." Gabranth ripped the letter out of Drace's hand and read it.

_Dearest Judge Magister,_

_I am glad to give this collectors edition of the Lady Godiva Press and extend another invitation for future projects together, such as an interview and more photography sessions in the studio. We have sent your payment of twenty million gil to your Manager's office._

_I look forward to working with you in the future,_

_Sincerely, Madam Cathleen Mercia, Editor, Lady Godiva Press._

Gabranth frowned, "I don't have a manager," he said, puzzled by the letter.

"Yes you do," Drace smiled, handing him the check, "Someone had to look after your interests."

He studied the small slip of paper, "What do I do with such a large sum of money?"

"Anything you want," She laid a hand on his shoulder, "you earned it."

The Judge Magisters remained silent for a time, Gabranth's eyes drifted over the cityscape and stopped on Old Archades, "I know what I want to do with the money," he smiled down at Drace, "and as my manager, you would have the delight on informing Archadia that I only look to help those who need it the most."

_**

* * *

**_

Stop Press! It has come to our attention, here at the Lady Godiva Press, that everyone's favourite Judge Magister, Judge Magister Gabranth, has not only got the largest appendage we have ever seen, but his heart also is large enough to make every hot blooded woman swoon. The Judge Magister's generous contribution to the homeless of Old Archades, his donation will go towards building shelters for the children and provide medical treatment to the invalids. We can all learn from the example of the Ninth Bureau's most dedicated Magister.

* * *

"How much did they pay you for flashing your cock around?" Ghis asked Gabranth during the monthly meeting of the Magisters.

"Twenty Million," he answered quietly, keeping his eyes on the papers in front of him. "And I didn't know they wanted to see me in my entirety."

"Don't worry, son," Zecht chuckled, "most of us would only earn half that, but special individuals like you and I have the added trouble of fighting off the ladies where ever we go." The table roared with laughter.

Bergen mimicked the seductive glare of Gabranth's nude shot in the water, "Watch out ladies and effeminate men, I'm coming for you," Bergen licked his lips and ran his hands down his chest in mocking erotic fashion.

Gabranth sank into his chair, Bergen loved to tease him at every opportunity. "I believe that Gabranth has much more virtue than an oversized piece of anatomy," Drace jumped in to defend him, "Besides, he can draw the attention of women who play for the other team," she sent him a warm smile.

Gabranth found himself returning the smile, perhaps his experience as an object of sexual desires for women was not all that bad.

* * *

Well, that's it, I hoped you all liked it :Þ


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